with tired eyes and tired minds
by FirstHeartBroken
Summary: It's been months since Tom died, but Hal's having trouble adjusting. Can Alex finally get him to open up to his pain? And in doing so, heal him? Hal/Alex reaction to a theoretical death of Tom. T for language and very mild sex


This is just a quick oneshot that was floating around in my mind. I know Being Human fics don't get a lot of reviews or recognition but even if only a few people like this story, I'll feel as if I've achieved something :) I just love the characters so much (especially Hal, yum) I had to do something with them. This is about the theoretical death of Tom and how Alex and Hal react to it. Enjoy!

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**with tired eyes and tired minds**

Sometimes I want to shake him.

His silence is deafening. It's been a week since he's even said one word to me. I speak to him and he nods, or hums, or sometimes doesn't even answer. It makes me want to scream.

_He_ makes me want to scream.

And then I realize I can't get angry because this is _Hal_. Stoic, serious, gloomy Hal. Depressed is his middle name. It sums him up completely.

But maybe it's wrong and maybe it's stupid but... I need help. I can't do this by myself—I can't get over this by myself. Because this wasn't just anyone... this was Tom.

_Tom_.

Just the thought of his name causes tears to spring to my eyes almost immediately.

Us three had only been together for a few months before the vampires came for him. Hal and I had gone out _shopping_, it sounds so stupid now. If only we hadn't left, we could have saved him. We could have saved _ourselves_ from the agony of finding his broken body bleeding out all over Annie's rented carpet.

I had screamed, tears rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably as I practically threw myself at him, shaking him and kissing him and begging him to wake up. His face was so beaten it was barely recognizable but when I looked up, I saw something even more frightening.

Hal's expression.

That beautiful face, the one that was normally etched with permanent hardness, had turned completely blank, void of all emotion. Almost... defeated. Just months after the most painful detox he'd ever endured in 500 years and just months after losing Annie… another best friend... _gone_. I briefly wondered how much pain one person could stand and my heart broke for him.

But after five long months of silence and solitude, that sympathy had turned to anger.

Now I watch him from the kitchen as he sits in-front of the turned off television, his eyes immersed in a book I know he can't concentrate on reading. It's like this every day. I see his eyes skim over the same paragraph again and again as he desperately attempts not to talk to me and this is one stupid _routine_ that makes me want to scream.

My fingers itch and before I can stop myself, my fury causes the book to inadvertently fly out of his hands. After nearly a year of death, I'd adapted to being a ghost pretty well.

"Why?" He mutters quietly and simply.

I let out an irritated huff before rent-a-ghosting and ending up right in-front of him.

"I'm sick of this." I declare, staring down at him. "I mean it, Hal."

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before standing up.

"What are you talking about?"

"This!" I exclaim, thrusting a hand forwards and gesturing to the huge space between us. "This... this _silence!_ When are you going to talk to me? When are we going to talk about... what happened." I can't even bring myself to say Tom's name out loud.

"I can't talk about it, Alex." He insists and I'm disturbingly satisfied to hear the slight anger in his voice. Anger is good. It means he feels _something_... that he hasn't shut off his emotions completely.

"Well you're going to have to." I almost shout, crossing my arms. "We can't keep tiptoeing around each other, avoiding each other. We live in the same fucking house! We can't just keep pretending nothing's wrong when we both know what each other's going through. Talk to me, _please!_"

His eyes glaze over and for a moment, I'm afraid.

"What do you want to talk about, hmm?" He asks sarcastically and this time the fury in his voice makes my eyes well with tears. "Do you want to talk about how I've lost _everything?_ I've lost my control—I can barely think about anything other than blood and when I'm not thinking about that, I'm thinking about Tom. We lost him, Alex. I know that. We lost him and it hurts, it really hurts. I lost him like I lost Leo and Pearl and Annie. So I ignore you, I don't say much, well I'm sorry but I just can't talk about it. I can't even think about it. Because when I do, all I'm reminded of is the fact that less than a year ago, I had a pretty good life going. I had my control and I had Annie and I had Tom and now? Now I have _nothing_."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks and I stare at him, best I can through my tears.

"You have _nothing?_" I breathe angrily, my voice catching and from his expression I can tell he knows his words have seriously hurt me. "You have _me!_ I'm right here! I'm not going anywhere. I'm hurting too, Hal. Do you think this is what Tom would have wanted? He would have wanted us to look after each other." My voice caught in my throat as tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably. "You have _got_ to work out what we're going to do because this version of you does not work for me. I _cannot_ go on living like this. Things have to change or pretty soon you really will have _nothing_."

And with that, I rent-a-ghost out of there like the coward I am.

.

.

.

He comes to my room that night.

The shock of it causes me to bolt upright, sooner suspecting a mass-murdering psycho to be breaking into my room than Hal.

"Hal?" My throat is hoarse from all the crying and I stare at him, confused.

His solemn, tortured expression remains fixed as he walks towards me, reaching the foot of my bed and reaching out for me. I frown, knowing how much he hates to be touched, yet his hand remains outturned, waiting for me.

My heart begins to pound a little faster and I feel as if I've been hypnotized as I shuffle and move until I'm kneeling, taking his hand softly and tipping my chin up to look at him.

There's a tense silence for a moment while we gaze at each other before he breaks it, his voice husky.

"I'm sorry." He says simply and before I can even respond, he grabs my chin gently with one hand and bends down, bringing my mouth to his.

Stunned, I freeze as his mouth moves against mine and I wonder if this is really happening. But then his other hand comes up and he's holding my face tenderly and his lips feel so good against mine I can't help but start to respond.

He hums against my mouth in approval when my tongue meets his and before I know it, he's pushing me backwards so we slowly end up with me on my back, my head resting on the soft pillow as his strong, hard body surrounds mine.

I cradle him between my thighs as an ache starts to form, starting in the pit of my stomach and erupting into a fire that spreads throughout my veins. I don't question what's happening, I can't bring myself to. All I can do is appreciate the way his body is surprisingly warm against mine.

"Tighter." I whisper when his mouth begins to trail hot kisses down the length of my neck, "Hold me tighter." I screw my eyes shut, blinking back tears.

His arms immediately tighten around me as he brings his mouth back to mine and I sigh against his lips. Kissing Hal is like nothing I've ever felt before and I don't want it to ever end. It's like a fire is erupting through my veins and I swear I can literally feel his pain pouring into me.

"Alex." He buries his face in my neck and I swear I can feel wetness on my skin.

I purse my lips, holding back my tears. There's been enough crying today. My mind involuntarily flashes to Tom, the memory of his life and his death. All I can think about is how horrible it must have been for him; how he must have died scared and alone.

Hal's already a man who allows his guilt to consume him. I know this, I've experienced it first hand—seen it in his eyes the first few months. Every time he looked at me, forever stuck in the dress I wore for our date, those green eyes would fill with unmistakable guilt and pain.

I can see that now as I stare up at him, our gaze unbreakable. I know he blames himself for Tom's death, blames himself for not being there. I know he thinks that the sound of the knife being plunged into his chest, the smell of his blood, should've sent him running. He should have known what was happening because Tom was such a part of him.

Ultimately, I know that he will never forgive himself for letting him die without him.

"It's not your fault." I implore him suddenly, needing him to understand that. I kiss him quickly, again and again, almost crying into his open mouth as he shudders against me.

He stares at me for a moment before he breaks.

"I miss him." He whispers brokenly and I clutch him tighter. "He was my best friend and I miss him so much."

I nod in understanding, knowing how hard it must have been for him to admit that. And when we come together, it's fast and needy and mostly, _open. _Hal holds nothing back and gives himself to me completely and that's what I need. I need to feel his pain so that I can take it from him, heal him.

Afterwards, we lay entwined together; his hand still clutching mine as he falls asleep for what I'm sure is the first real time in months.

And as I stare at his face, peaceful and innocent in his rest, I think to myself that maybe, just maybe, things will be better now.

It won't happen straight away. It will take time and we'll have to work at it every day, but somehow, someway...

We'll be okay.


End file.
